


A Fartfelt Conversation

by BoringMacaroni



Category: Original Work
Genre: Best Friends, Blink-and-you'll-miss-it-appearance-of-Gassy!Dante, Boyfriends, Eproctophilia, Fart Fetish, Farting, Flatulence, Gassy Guy, I guess this sorta spoils ORR so don't read it if you're precious about that stuff, Idiots in Love, M/M, Male Bonding, Male Farting, fart kink, farting fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,703
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoringMacaroni/pseuds/BoringMacaroni
Summary: A goofy lil ficlet based on a Tumblr prompt.
Relationships: Dante/Curtis
Kudos: 17





	A Fartfelt Conversation

_Fffffhhhrrrrrt._

“Sorry.”

_Buupprrt._

“Pardon me.”

_Ppppmmmprt._

“Sorry, again.”

_BBBRAAFRRRRT!_

“Aw, Judy, play nice!”

Dante clasped his hands over a stomach churning with gas to come and contemplated his oblivious partner.

“Curtis, last time I checked, we weren’t workshopping a new ventriloquist’s act.”

“Oh, uh huh. I hear ya, Dante,” Curtis replied, in his typically merry way, while not registering any word that was being said to him.

_BLLURRHP!_

The brunette’s bottom blurted out another wet puff. A pink hue masked the blonde's face.

“Heh, whoopsie-daisy!”

Dante massaged his temples. He had a sneaky suspicion that it was going to be one of _those_ nights. “Curtis. Tell me. Are you feeling air exiting any of your various orifices right now?”

“We-ell,” Curtis' head tilted to the side as he pursed his lips. “That’s a toughie. I _do_ feel it coming out, but it’s more of a subconscious experience these days. It comes out so much that I forget to pay attention, so I don’t really _notice_ the feeling. Is that weird?”

At no point during his explanation did his boyfriend's eyes, or concentration, divert from the glow of his Switch’s screen to Dante’s nonplussed expression. It wasn’t unfamiliar for them to be in this position, with Dante possessing glaring knowledge Curtis hadn’t even the vaguest slice of awareness of. Curtis, for all his booksmarts, was prone to moments of… oh, how could Dante put it nicely? _Veritable dumbassery_ , but this - this right here - was taking the cake.

No. It was more than that. This was taking the entire bakery, and Dante would not stand for such shameless robbery.

“Curtis,” the brunette’s voice adopted the same stern intonations of any school principal. “Look at me, please. And pay close attention.”

Curtis pressed the pause button on his device. With his legs crossed in a neat basket, he turned and gave Dante the eye-contact he so desired.

“Now watch closely,” Dante instructed. There was plenty of activity going on in his innards and he may as well make a demonstration of it. He bent his leg, pivoted his backside in the blonde’s direction, and a quick motion of the hand urged a dense fart out of his guts.

_BBRrRRrRRRrrrrruuummmfffp!_

With nothing to muffle the scope of the sound, the expulsion rang around the bedroom as clear as crystal, then disappeared into the ether.

Dante waited. He was nothing if not patient (and gaseous, or at least he was tonight.) There was a subtle wrinkling of Curtis’ brow, a dilation of his pupils. Almost like there could be a thought process occurring somewhere in that cloudy headspace of his.

Or, you know, _not._

“Whew! My bad!” He waved the imaginary stench away from his rear. “Sasha made us tacos for lunch. Not that _that_ makes much difference, hahaha!”

Dante closed his eyes and let his weary self sag into their old bed. He would try again once he regained his will to live.

“Curtis.”

“Yeah?”

“That wasn’t you, buddy.”

“Oh.” Curtis wit was not quick at the best of times (as previously observed), but it didn’t help that he was one slapdashed lap away from winning the final race in his game of _Mario Kart._ But even with that distraction, there was a brain beneath that mop of unkempt hair, and Dante knew it was functioning. One just had to wait for the odd bout of lag to pass.

The length of time depended on how challenging the situation was.

“…oh. OHHHH.”

“ _There_ he goes.”

“OOOOH! Oh! Haha, _oh_ , I get it!” Curtis chirped, tucking his Switch underneath his half of the pillows. “Aww, nice one, man! That was a biggie!”

“I bet you say that to _all_ the boys,” Dante pretended to fan his flushing face. It was really just an excuse to waft away some of the smell. He kind of wished he hadn't snacked on so many of those fiber bars to try and get things moving again. 

“So where’s this supportive attitude when it comes to your own _‘biggies_ ’?”

Curtis’ weedy shoulders lifted and dropped in a shy shrug.

“Cause mine’s different.”

“It’s really not-”

_uuUUUUUURP!_

“Oh, Jesus,” Dante moaned, unable to stifle back the barrelling belch. “It’s coming out of all ends.”

“Did you have tacos, too?”

“Naw, it’s these antibiotics. They have it in for me.”

The older male’s face scrunched as he felt something bubbling up down below. He brought his knee toward his chest to let free a prolonged string of heady flatulence.

“Good lord. If this doesn’t die down, we might need to keep _two_ windows open. Sorry, Curtis.”

“Nothing to be sorry about! That just means more blankets,” Curtis showed off his toothy smile. “And even snugglier snuggles than we normally snuggle!”

“Aw. Always looking on the bright side of life, huh, short stuff?”

A ferocious gurgle interjected into their discussion. It was rather rude on its part, actually.

“Was that me?” Curtis said. “It sure _sounded_ like me.”

“No,” Dante frowned. A hand now rested on the place where the noise came from. It _had_ sounded like one of Curtis’, and that wasn’t a reassuring comparison. “That was me.”

Curtis’ eyes shone with concern.

“How bad is it? If one was, like, you ate a little too much bean dip, and ten was _me_ …”

A second rumble filled the air. More evidence of inner discomposure.

“Six,” Dante winced.

“Six is no good for a regular tummy.” Curtis’ hand stretched out to pat the tummy in question. “Oh! And it feels all hot and rumbly!”

“That’s what yours feels like all the time, dork. I’ll live.”

“But…”

“It’s either this or sepsis, Curtis. What can you do?”

Dante plumped up his pillow and lowered his head down, but not without catching the flash of a grin. His neck twisted toward the cursed one.

“Curtis,” he said, knowing that look and, worse, knowing what it meant. “Does whatever you’re thinking about right now have Sasha’s studying time in mind?”

“What _I’m_ thinking,” Curtis continued to grin, “is that I know just the thing to make my boy feel better…”

This time the gurgling was coming from Curtis.

**_PPPHHHHRRRSSSHHHHHHHHUUURRRRT!_ **

It was a normal fart - for Curtis, that is. Dante’s farts were a brass band that had never made it out of a garage. Curtis’ was an award-winning orchestra. 

And what could be said of the odor that Dante hadn’t ranted to the high heavens about already? As well as being _visible_ to the naked eye, Curtis’ flurry of fumes just smelled… _**worse.**_ It was, of course, designed to be worse, but this understanding did not diminish just how much worse it was. Bowels backed up with two days worth of a five-day course of antibiotics were mere shadows trembling in the wake of this behemoth stench.

Dante was well trained in the art of the stink, and nowadays the most the Master Blaster's _‘normal’_ farts warranted was a hasty wave of the hand. And, in this case, a counter-attack.

“Now hold the phone, mister,” Dante began, a finger lifted in the air. “I want to make sure I heard you right. Did you seriously just tell me…”

He shifted sideways and squeezed.

_PpPpPpPpmmpph!_

“Ohh!” He groaned, seeing no reason to conceal his relief. 

Curtis placed a hand over his heart. “How dare you! I _clearly_ said-”

**PPPPUUUUURRPPPT!**

Dante gasped. “Those are fighting words. Well, in **_that_** case, I see your-” _FFfhhhhhsssp!_ “and I raise you-” _BBbbbrrrrfffrrrtuuurp!_

“You did not,” Curtis gawked, “just say that to me!”

“I believe I just did.”

“You think you’re _so_ smart, huh?”

“I don’t think. I _know._ ”

“But you’re forgetting about the most important thing!”

“And that would be?”

**TTTHHHHRRRRRMMMRRRRUUMMPT!**

Dante clutched at his chest as if he had been struck by something.

“Oh my GOD. How could I? How could I ever forget about-” _Bbbbmmphhhhttt!_

“It’s an easy mistake to make!” Curtis squeaked out through poorly contained giggles.

**_BANG-BANG-BANG!_ **

There was an infuriated hammering being unleashed upon their innocent door. And unless Ruby had grown thumbs, it had to be Sasha, with a fuse shorter than the time you had to evacuate the room once you acquired the terrifying knowledge that Curtis had eaten a slice of cheese.

“Come in!” Curtis called.

“At your own discretion,” Dante added, but it was too late.

The door slammed open and created a Sasha-sized hole in their toxic tapestry. And poor Sasha fell into it nose-first.

“Will y- … **WHY?!** ”

Dante and Curtis dissolved into puddles of laughter as they listened to their roommate diatribe her way back down the hall. There was a mention of broken promises to never live with boys and a shout-out to the rent being too high for such going-ons. Ruby (who did not pay rent), yowled in agreement, and to remind Sasha that it had been three minutes since her teeth had last been sinking into the crunchy, chicken-flavored pocket of a Dreamie, and that was simply three minutes too many.

Curtis wiped a tear from his eye. “Gosh! Did you know Sasha had such strong feelings about-” _ **VVvVVVVVVVVVVRRRRFFFOOOLRT!**_

“No,” Dante’s shoulders were bouncing with scarcely suppressed laughter. “I did _not_ know Sasha had such strong feelings about-” _Tttthhhrrrump!_

“I hate this. We’re a divided household.”

Dante laid his hand lovingly on top of Curtis’.

“Now, now, buddy, in times like this, it’s important to remember what connects us,” he advised. “And if there’s one thing we can _all_ agree on, it’s…“

He extended a finger. Curtis clocked on - miraculously - and did the same.

They tugged together.

A duo of rasping winds flowed out of their rumps. Coupled with the screaming of Sasha, Apartment B-52 composed an impressive collection of harmonies. Sasha bringing in the high notes, the boys supplying the bass. A new genre was formed in that moment that Dante would christen _asscapella._ It would never catch on.

The blonde tipped over onto Dante's lap and tried not to wheeze himself into an early demise. Dante was happy to have amused him and even happier to no longer be crippled by cramps from the most minuscule of movements. 

“Hey, stinker?”

“Uh huh?”

“I’m glad we had this talk,” Dante smiled, and patted his beau on his scruffy little head.

**Author's Note:**

> For those of you who don't follow me on Tumblr (@BoringMacaroni - where I regularly post headcanons that expand on Dante and Curtis' world!), here's the lowdown.
> 
> D & C move in together around a year after the events of _Operation Rectal Revenge._ They move a second time after that and take Sasha in as a roommate (there'll be an origin story for her eventually.) Ruby is their Calico-mix kitty who makes the most of being so inbred she basically doesn't have a nose. I mean, if you had to live with Curtis, wouldn't you?


End file.
